


Like a Falling Star

by PipMer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dean/Cas Reverse Bang, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 06:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19193650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PipMer/pseuds/PipMer
Summary: When the angels fell, Castiel thought that he had lost everything that made him who he was.But then Dean claimed that he could see his wings, and Castiel had to rethink everything.





	Like a Falling Star

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first submission for any sort of Bang challenge! This is for the 2019 Dean/Cas Reverse Bang. My wonderful artist, Jinger, created two works of art on which this fic is based. You can find their fantastic contributions [here](https://love-nakamura.tumblr.com/tagged/deancasreversebang/)
> 
> This story takes place post-season 8, during the first episode of Season 9. I altered some things to fit my narrative, so I guess technically this goes AU after season 8?
> 
> Last but not least, many thanks go to rachelindeed for cheerleading and beta duties, not least of which was keeping a newbie canon-compliant!

 

 

 

 

 

The last thing Castiel expected that night was for Dean to show up looking for him.

As soon as he looked up and saw the lights falling from the sky, he realized what had happened. Just a moment ago he had been one of them, shining brightly for the last time. He had landed in a dense forest, black night pushing at him from all sides. Blinking, he mentally reached out for his grace, and felt nothing. He tried to unfurl his wings, and again: nothing.

Did he have a human soul now?

If so, how would that color Sam and Dean’s perception of him? How useful could he be to them now?

These thoughts filled him with anxiety - a new emotion, to be sure, and one he did not like. He immediately tamped it down and focused on his situation.

Castiel stumbled into a clearing and onto a paved two-lane road. The moon was new, and therefore barely visible in the night sky. He looked in each direction, squinting into the dark. He had no idea where he was, not  recognizing any landmarks, and there were no signs visible. His angelic sense of direction was *completely* absent, and that more than anything else scared him.

Fear. Another new emotion -- at least with this amount of intensity.

If this was what being human felt like, he wanted no part of it.

 

The thought occurred that he had no way of contacting his friends. Even if he knew where they were, he was unable to fly to them instantaneously. He had no phone, no money, and no vehicle.

Unbidden and wholly unexpected, despair crashed through him, threatening to drown him. Gasping, he took a step back and placed his hand on his chest. Unfamiliar pain blossomed -- just momentarily, but enough to send his emotions spiraling. He slid to the ground with an ‘oof’, and placed his face in his hands. He didn’t weep, but it was a near thing.

After what felt like an eternity, he heard a distant rumbling. He lifted his head, squinting into the darkness. Two pinpricks of light made their way toward him, and the noise grew steadily louder.

Excitement coursed through him. He would recognize that sound anywhere, in any universe.

 

It was the rumble of Dean’s Impala.

 

***

 

He had left a comatose Sam in the hospital what seemed like hours ago, in the care of a concerned Jody. After spending hours praying, first to Cas and then to any listening ears, with no response, despair translated into restlessness, then into action. That meant only one thing: he needed to be on the road.

His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, as the Impala sped down a dark desert highway. He had no idea where he was going, or for how long. All he knew was that he was doing no good sitting at his brother’s bedside, and the only other person he needed wasn’t responding to his calls for help. He wasn’t going to sit still, alone with his thoughts, so he sought out the only activity with any chance of calming his mind.

Tears stung his eyes and threatened to fall, but he would not let them. He had never felt so alone before, but damned if he’d give in and show any sort of weakness, even to himself. His traitorous eyes threatened to glance toward the empty seat to his right; his mind staunchly refused to let them.

Hunters did not cry, and neither did they show weakness. Ever.

He was jolted out of his reverie when his headlights settled on a huddled figure at the side of the road. The closer he got, the more familiar it looked, until there was no mistaking that trenchcoat or that just-out-of-bed, messily tousled hair.

 

 _Cas,_ Dean whispered.

 

The Impala slowed down of its own accord, jerking and stuttering with an all-too familiar motion. Dean glanced at the dashboard, belatedly noticing that the needle on the gas gauge rested over the red portion.

 

_Perfect._

 

Suddenly it was all too much. Grief co-mingled with relief as both crested within him, requiring either movement or being sucked under. Before Baby had even come to a complete stop, Dean threw open the door and ran toward the angel, who by now had straightened up to his full height. The gleam in his friend’s eyes - _joy, relief, concern, love -_ wiped all feelings of bitterness and resentment from him. Surely Cas must have a good reason for not reaching out, for not replying during Dean’s darkest hour.

Dean reached out a trembling hand, and caught Cas’s outreached hand in his own. He pulled his friend to him and engulfed him in a tight hug. The tension in the other man’s body gradually relaxed. Cas’s sigh tickled the side of Dean’s neck, making him shiver. Dean closed his eyes and allowed the floodgates to break loose.

It started with a hitch in his breath. Then a tear leaked out of his shut eyelid, followed by a stream. The hitches turned into sobs, until they were soaked with each other’s tears and had both slumped to the ground, wrapped in each other’s arms. Sobs turned into hiccups, and the torrent of emotion seemed to go on forever.

 

***

 

Castiel didn’t know what to make of the moisture that insisted on spilling from his eyes. It seemed to have something to do with the storm of emotions wreaking havoc within his body. The warmth and safety that he felt from being cocooned in strong arms seemed to encourage the deluge. Perhaps it signalled that Dean didn’t hate him after all? That he could still be accepted, even if all he had to offer was this empty shell that no longer contained any special powers or abilities.

After the storm had subsided,  Dean stood up, tugging on Castiel’s hand which was still engulfed in his own. Silently, they both walked toward the stalled Impala.

“Ran out of gas,” Dean said sheepishly.

A small smile tugged at the angel’s -- the *former* angel’s - mouth. “Obviously,” he replied.

To Castiel’s consternation, Dean let go of his hand. He hopped up butt first onto the Impala’s hood, and scooched back until he was leaning against the windshield. He smiled at Castiel’s confused look. He patted the space next to him.

“Join me.”

Castiel cocked his head and considered. His forehead furrowed and he chewed his lip thoughtfully. He shrugged out of his coat and carefully placed it on the hood before jumping up and joining Dean.

Dean snorted. “Always so fastidious, Cas.”

Castiel smiled. A warm feeling spread from his chest outward. Apparently he was still himself, angel or no. Did this mean he could still be useful to the Winchester brothers?

 

Speaking of which…

 

“Where is Sam? Did he complete the trials?”

Dean frowned, and his face grew sad. Castiel immediately regretted asking. Dean explained how he had stopped Sam from completing the last trial, hoping to save Sam’s life, only to have his brother slip into a coma. How Sam was at that very moment fighting for his life.

After the whole upsetting tale had been told, Castiel reached out and reclaimed Dean’s hand. Dean’s squeezed his own in acknowledgment.  

Silence reigned for a few moments as they gazed up at the night sky. Streaks of light were still falling; after all, Heaven contained a lot of angels.

“So,” Castiel asked, nodding toward the night sky, “you know what’s happening?”

Dean nodded. “It’s not a meteor shower, that’s for sure.”

“No.”

 

More silence. Then…

 

Dean’s gaze raked over Castiel’s form, considering. It made him shiver.

“I take it this means the angels have lost their wings.”

At Castiel’s nod, Dean continued, “Well, you must be special, then. Of course, I always knew that.”

Castiel stared at Dean. “What do you mean?”

Dean waved his hand at him. “Because at least you still have your wings.”

“I do? What? No I don’t.”

“Sure you do. I can see them right now. They’re all glowy and shit. Are you, like, the in-charge angel now?” Dean’s mouth drew down. “Why didn’t you answer my prayer? Why didn’t you come?”

“You prayed to me?”

“Of course I did! Who else would I pray to?”

Castiel looked away. Dean’s grip tightened. At least he wasn’t letting go.

“Cas?”

This was it. After Castiel explained, it would be over. He couldn’t heal Sam. He bled like any other human. He was out of angel juice. What purpose could he still serve?

“I didn’t come because I didn’t hear your prayer. Metatron stole my grace, Dean. Not only can I not fly -- I can’t do anything anymore. I’m sorry. I have failed both you and Sam.”

As if to confirm what he had just said, his stomach rumbled -- a very human sound.

Castiel looked down at himself sadly. “I guess I feel hunger now.”

He couldn’t bear to look at Dean. To see the judgment, the anger, the disappointment…

  
“Cas, look at me.”

 

The tone is what made Castiel look up. It was not a threatening one, but a soft entreaty.

Dean’s eyes were just as soft. “Cas, if you think we’ve been keeping you around all this time just to take advantage of your angel powers, then you’ve got another think coming, dude.”

Castiel blinked.

“You know what I think of most angels, right? That they’re dicks. And you… well, yeah, you *can* be a dick sometimes, when you want to be. But -- you’re *family*, Cas. You’re not like the rest. You’re not just another angel. Not to me. And not to Sammy either.

“Now, I’m sorry that you lost your powers, and that you have to deal with being human now. It sucks, man. I get it, I do. But your value was never measured by your angel juice.”

Then, to Castiel’s surprise, Dean slowly lifted their clasped hands. He placed a soft kiss on Castiel’s knuckles, eye contact never wavering.

“It was, and still is, measured by your humanity.”

That pesky moisture threatened to leak out of his eyes again. Castiel blinked until the feeling went away.  “I feel… something in my chest that I’ve never felt before. It’s warm and pleasurable, yet at the same time uncomfortable and a bit painful. I’m not having a heart attack, am I?”

Dean smiled warmly. “No, Cas. It’s love. That’s what you’re feeling… Love.”

Castiel cocked his head. “Love? What an unusual sensation.” He stared at their joined hands. “Does this mean there will be kissing?”

Dean grinned, green eyes sparkling. “Maybe. If you want there to be. Not now, though. Right now we have bigger fish to fry. I have Triple-A, so the gas issue can be taken care of pronto. We need to make a game plan to help Sammy, because I’ll be damned if I just sit by and watch him die.”

Castiel shifted so that he was sitting upright. “Sam. Yes. You said you made an open-ended prayer, to any angels with their ears on?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, two things. One, that may not have been the best idea. Your entreaty most certainly  reeked of desperation, and angels angry about being expelled from their home may well be on their way right now, not to help but to wreak vengeance. Two, we need to get back in case anyone was listening who actually does want to help.”

“Agreed. First order of business, calling - oh, crap.” Dean had pulled his phone out and was now staring at a dark screen. “Battery’s dead.”

“And your car’s out of gas.” Castiel rolled his eyes. “Perfect.”

Dean scowled. “Haven’t lost your snarkiness, have you? Hey, are you sure that you don’t have any angel juice left? I swear that I can see your wings.”

“Pretty sure. What do they look like?”

“Like a ghost that’s fading. A transparent, milky-white shape.” Dean reached out. “I can’t touch them, though. My hand goes right through them. Why are they there, if your powers are gone?”

“I don’t know, Dean,” Castiel replied sadly. “Maybe it’s a fading image, a visual echo if you will. Not the real thing, but a lingering vestige of what once was. What I *can* tell you with a high degree of certainty, is that I am no longer an angel. We have to figure out another way to get back to Sam, and quickly.”

Dean bit his lip and stared straight ahead, thinking. After several seconds he blew out an exasperated breath.

“I’m a dumbass.” He turned to Castiel and declared, “I forgot that I have the King of Hell in my trunk!”

 

 

Dean hopped down from the hood and made his way to the back of the Impala. He popped the trunk as Castiel joined him. They both looked down at a very disgruntled demon.

Dean leaned down and yanked the cloth from around Crowley’s mouth. “So here’s the deal. You’re going to lend us your phone so we can call Triple-A. Then, you’re going to teleport me back to Sammy while Cas drives Baby back. We can negotiate everything else after that.”

Castiel whipped his head around. “What? No, we’re not separating. It’s too dangerous.”

Dean scoffed. “For who? I can take care of myself, Cas. You’re the liability right now. You need to keep yourself safe until you learn how to compensate for your lack of… what?”

“So now that I’m human, I'm no longer useful to you? You think that I can’t help you protect Sam, or defend against the other angels?”

“Now you know I didn’t mean it like that…”

Castiel drew himself up as tall as he could, to make up for how small he felt as his stomach sank to his feet and his mind swirled with hurt and rageful thoughts. Dean’s mouth clicked shut and he took a step back.

“Whoa. I didn’t know your wings could stretch so far. That’s -- frankly terrifying. Change of plans. We’ll *both* go back to Sammy, and we’ll deal with the car later.”

Castiel cocked his head. “Dean, I truly no longer have wings. Mine, along with all of the other angels’, burned away during our fall. I don’t know what you’re seeing, but it’s not - “

“Does it matter, Cas? Something’s there, I can see them!”

“Boys,” a smooth English voice interrupted, “as intrigued as I am, and *burning* with curiosity, maybe loosen my bonds so I can offer the requested aid, yes?”

 

 

 

***

 

Crowley’s cooperation may have been unexpected, but it was most certainly appreciated. It was a huge risk not slapping the demon handcuffs on him, but there was no way Crowley would be able to teleport  them otherwise. And it wasn’t as if there were any other choices available.

“Look,” Dean told him, stomach churning with anxiety. “I don’t trust you, and you don’t trust me. But you know that I’m a man of my word, so I promise you, on my mother’s grave, that I’ll give you whatever you want in exchange.”

He slanted his eyes in Cas’s direction to gauge the angel’s - scratch that, *former* angel’s - reaction. Cas’s expression was carefully blank.

“Agreed,” the demon replied, giving that little half-smile that always made Dean paranoid.

After warning Cas what it was like to be teleported by a demon, Crowley placed a hand on both their shoulders and did his thing.

 

Apparently Cas hadn’t prepared himself as well as he should, because the moment they appeared in the hospital corridor he lurched into the nearest bathroom, gagging and heaving. Stood to reason; he was used to being able to fly off into the ether as natural as anything. Having a human body now must take some getting used to.

Once the angel - er, the new human - had his bodily functions under control and rejoined them, Dean turned to Crowley and snapped the cuffs on him. Crowley shot him a look of pure betrayal.

Dean shrugged. “I’m not stupid,” he said. Then he dragged him, followed by Cas, to Sam’s room.

Jody looked up as they entered, immediately springing to her feet as she caught sight of Crowley.

“What the hell?? What’s *he*doing here?”

Dean help up a placating hand. He had almost forgotten - almost - that Crowley had tried to kill her not too long ago. “Easy, Jody. He’s no longer a threat. We’ve got him secured.”

Jody looked at him like she didn’t believe him. Her expression quickly went from *are you kidding me* to -

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to call you.”

“Sorry. Phone died.” Dean forced himself to look at his brother, still as death and still hooked up to all of those god-awful machines. He strode over to Sam’s side, bringing Crowley with him.

“How is he?”

“The same. No improvement, but not getting worse either.”

“Have any angels shown up?”

“No. Should they have?”

Dean grabbed a marker from his pocket and tossed it to Cas. “Can you do the warding, Cas? Is it going to be too uncomfortable for you?”

Cas gave him that *look*, just with a tilt of his head, and Dean grimaced. “Sorry. I kinda forgot.”

Cas got busy warding the room, and in the meantime Dean stood at his brother’s bedside while chained to a demon. He was working himself up to offering a deal in exchange for his brother’s life when he was startled by Crowley’s voice.

“Oh Moose,” Crowley said, tone tinged with both annoyance and… genuine sadness? “What have you done to yourself? You’ve gifted me with your blood, making me a better man because of it, and now I can’t just let you languish here. Damn it all to Hell and back.”

 

Wait, what?

 

Dean turned an incredulous eye on Crowley. “Are you telling me it was actually working? Curing you, I mean?”

Crowley shrugged, eyes never leaving Sam’s body. “He didn’t finish it, of course. So the process was incomplete. But I’m obligated to heal him, in gratitude. First step on my way to forgiveness, I suppose.”

Dean snorted. “Don’t hold your breath on that. Wait a minute. Are you telling me that you’ll heal Sammy without asking for anything in return?”

“Sam’s already given me a dose of humanity. I’d only be repaying him in kind.”

He was most likely lying, but Dean wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Even Cas wasn’t jumping in to warn Dean about trusting the word of a demon. He guessed that they had all become just that desperate.

Dean nodded. “Okay. Do it.”

 

***

 

The room grew silent as Crowley placed his free hand on Sam’s forehead and closed his eyes. Castiel’s eyes burned and his insides twisted as he watched one of his worst enemies do the work that should have been relegated to *him*, an angel of the Lord. Except he wasn’t, not anymore. And most likely never would be again. The whole situation left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Or maybe that was the result of his recent vomiting attack. That had been the most disgusting experience he’d had to date. He shuddered at the thought of being permanently chained to this human existence.

Then again, given the recent change in his and Dean’s relationship, maybe that wouldn’t be the curse he had always imagined.

He was jerked out of his thoughts by Crowley’s low rumble.

“It’s nearly too late; he’s almost lost to us. He wants to let go and go to his peace. The damage is… significant. I can repair it, but it’s going to take awhile. Angels intent on revenge may complicate matters if they arrive before I’ve finished.”

“Can you teleport him - us - to the bunker?”

“Indeed.”

“Okay, let’s do it.” Dean pulled his keys and wallet out of his pocket and tossed them to Castiel. Startled, Castiel still managed to catch them with one hand. Apparently his reflexes weren’t solely angel powered.

“Jody, take Cas to buy a gas can and some gas, and then drive him to my Baby, please. I’ll text you the directions. Then come to the bunker, both of you, and after Sammy’s healed we’ll all make a game plan. Oh, by the way… Cas meet Jody, Jody meet Cas. Jody is a kick-ass sheriff, Cas is an angel of the Lord. Well, was. You’ll make a great team.”

Dean gave Castiel a wink that was just so *Dean* that Castiel’s heart about beat out of his chest.

Funny how he had never been so aware of his vessel and its bodily functions before. Now, it seemed like he was hyper aware of every little twitch and muscle spasm.

Castiel gave himself a mental shake and focused on the woman staring back at him. He inclined his head. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Any friend of Dean’s is a friend of mine.”

Jody flinched. “Ugh. Don’t call me ma’am. Angel of the Lord, huh? That must be an interesting story. Hopefully the ride’ll be long enough for you to tell me all about it. I’m always looking for juicy info on the Winchester boys. Never know when I’ll need to keep them in line.” She winked at Castiel saucily.

Castiel blinked. “Are humans always winking at each other? And does it always mean that they want to have sex? Because I have to tell you, Jody, that I’m spoken for.”

Jody flushed and spluttered. Dean coughed, interrupting before the situation could get any more awkward.  “Alrighty then. Meet everybody back at the bunker.” He looked at Crowley and nodded.

Crowley lifted the chain that bound them together and rattled it, eyebrow raised. “I know you’re distracted, Dean, what with you and Castiel finally making things official, but really?”

“Oh. Right,” Dean said, blushing in a very attractive manner. He pulled out the key, unlocked the cuffs, and in the next instant he, Crowley and Sam had disappeared.

Jody breathed out a sigh. “I’ll never get used to seeing things like that.”

“I’ll never get used to not being able to _do_ things like that,” Castiel complained.

“Oh, right!” Jody clapped a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and steered him toward the door. “Why don’t you tell me all about it? Let’s get this show on the road, the sooner started the sooner done.”

 

They were halfway to the stalled Impala when Castiel asked, “Jody? Can you see my wings?”

“Wings? No. Thought you didn’t have them anymore.”

“I don’t. But Dean swears that he can see a faint image of them, like an afterglow.”

Jody’s mouth quirked up as she gave Castiel the side eye. “Well, from the things Dean’s said about you two -- something about a profound bond, or something? - I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s just seeing you through rose-colored glasses.”

Castiel frowned. “What do red-tinted spectacles have to do with anything?”

Jody rolled her eyes. “Wow, you really do take everything literally, don’t you? Maybe he just always sees the best in you. Like, you’re still *you*, right? Just without all the bells and whistles. You’re still *Castiel*. Maybe some angelic parts of you are still there, they’re just not functional right now. Like your wings.”

“But then, why doesn’t everyone else see them too?”

“Because he’s the one who knows you best and still sees you for you? I don’t know, Cas, but I certainly wouldn’t question it too closely. If anything, I’d take it as a sign that there’s hope you might somehow regain it all back someday. If you wanted that. Being human isn’t really all that bad once you get the hang of it.”

Castiel pondered that for the rest of the trip.

 

\----------

 

Six weeks after the angels fell, after he had lost his grace and his wings…. Six weeks after Dean had found him and held his hand on top of the trusty Impala, under the brilliance of the most holy meteor shower… Six weeks after Sam had fallen into what the doctors had thought was an irreversible coma…

Sam found himself well on the way to a complete recovery. It had taken five consecutive hours of intense concentration and healing power, but Crowley had pulled off a miracle and Castiel couldn’t even be resentful about it. As expected, the demon’s altruistic attitude and human tendencies started to wear off almost immediately, so Dean kept him chained up in the bunker’s dungeon. He claimed that he and Sam had plans for the demon; Castiel wasn’t sure what that meant, but he would leave the brothers to deal with that end of things.

Abaddon was somewhere out there, recruiting demons to her cause in her efforts at a regime change. The fallen angels were searching for Castiel, angry about his role in their eviction from Heaven. Metatron would have to be dealt with, somehow. And on top of all of that, there were the usual cases that popped up from time to time, damage caused by creatures that couldn’t be ignored just because angels and demons couldn’t behave themselves.

Or because two Winchesters and an angel with something to prove couldn’t leave well enough alone and thought they could close the gates of Heaven and Hell forever.

Maybe they still could, but first things first. Damage control, and all that.

 

The two of them (himself and Dean) were once again lying on the hood of the Impala, staring up at the night sky. This time the car was parked behind the bunker, and the sky contained stationary pinpricks of light rather than streaks across the sky. Sam was currently inside sleeping like the dead in preparation for a reconnaissance mission the next day. They weren’t currently holding hands, but their shoulders pressed against each other as they nursed their beers.

“Are you good with staying behind and doing the research this time? I have no doubt that you’d be able to hold your own out there, but for the time being this is probably for the best until you fall off Heaven’s Most Wanted list. Plus it’s good to get your bearings and get used to your new limitations. And practice some of those newfound internet skills Sammy’s been teaching you.”

Castiel squinted up into the sky, a now-familiar feeling of contentment and peace with his situation flooding his veins. He hoped, sometime in the not too distant future, to gain back if not his wings, then at least his angelic grace. But for now, what he had would suffice.

“I think so. This particular case shouldn’t take any longer than a couple of days at the most. And Kevin will be here to keep me in line. And Charlie, of course. That one’s a real pistol, I can see why you like her.”

“Yeah. I do know how to pick my friends.” Dean slyly slipped his hand into Castiel’s. “And my more-than friends.”

Warmth flooded Castiel’s chest, and he felt himself smiling without conscious effort. “Will there be kissing soon? Because it’s been awhile, and I feel that I’ve been more than patient.”

Dean chuckled. “Still deadpan, no-inflection Cas. See, you really haven’t changed at all. You’re still the same old pain in my ass, with no brain to mouth filter whatsoever.”

“Can you still see my wings?”

Dean turned his head, and raked his gaze over Castiel. His eyes glinted with heat and some unspoken emotion, and Castiel shivered.

“Yes, actually. Although to be honest, I haven’t really noticed them that much lately. It’s like they’re just a part of you, always there. Sort of like how people have a certain hair color or hairstyle, and it doesn’t call attention to itself unless they go and change it.  It’s not really a novelty anymore, ya know?”

Castiel found that oddly comforting.

“Cool,” he said, trying for a tone that was as ‘not him’ as possible. Given the exasperated look he caught Dean giving him out of the corner of his eye, he wasn’t succeeding.

He felt an uncharacteristic giggle struggling to burst out of him, one of those human attributes that he had been surrendering to more and more lately. It always felt good when he did, so he gave himself over to it. He tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and let it bubble out of him. He reveled in the sound, since as an angel he had never laughed quite like this. It was an expression of pure, uncomplicated joy.  And, if he were being honest, of love for the man next to him. Because he would show this side of himself -- this vulnerability -- to one person, and one person only.

A cool hand caressed his cheek. Castiel opened his eyes and turned to look at Dean, his laughter subsiding while his smile remained in place both on his face and in his eyes. Their noses were almost touching, and they locked eyes. Blue and green, gazing into each other. Time seemed to stop. The only indication that it hadn’t was the insistent chirping of crickets.

Without being aware that anyone had moved, Castiel felt the movement of lips over his own. Somehow his eyes had closed again, and his hands had moved of their own accord to cup Dean’s face. The windshield wiper was digging into his back, there was a crick in his neck, and yet he wasn’t uncomfortable enough to stop or to change position.

Castiel was a novice at kissing, and found himself having to pull back after a few moments just in order to take a breath. As he did so, he glanced over Dean’s shoulder at the sky and gasped.

“Dean! Look!”

Dean twisted around, just in time to see a green flash of light streak across the sky and fall to earth. Or to earth’s atmosphere, at least.

“That wasn’t another angel, was it? Like one of the big cahoonas?” Dean asked, voice tinged with awe.

“No. That was just your garden variety meteor.”

“Awesome.”

“From what I’ve gathered listening to angel radio, if any archangels still existed they wouldn’t be affected like the rest of us --  “

Dean placed a finger on Castiel’s mouth. “Cas. I don’t care.” He leaned over and captured Castiel’s lips in another, drawn-out kiss. Castiel smiled into the kiss, butterflies taking flight from the pit of his stomach to the heights of his blissed-out mind.

 

Yes, he could really get used to this. Indefinitely.

 

THE END

 

 


End file.
